Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ White Noise ❯ Why isn't rape in the fun category? ( Chapter 9 )

Okay, this is (another) short chapter. Oddly, when I write them out in Word they look so long, then Mediaminer makes them short >_< Sorry all. And another thing! Umm, well, they don't belong to me, I just like screwing with them, and have them screw each other. Please don't sue me, I've no money.

I'm so sorry this took so long to get out to y'all. Sometimes I just fall out of the groove.

Now, reviewers: Thank you all terribly much cause I'm convinced I'm both an idiot and a shitty writer, so your reviews make me somewhat, maybe question the latter of the two beliefs.

Black Kittens Dream: I did read the most recent addition to your fic, it rocks. I'd be joining Aya in her applause of the "act" had I been there. Can't wait for what happens now that Ran and Schu are back and Brad's pissed ^_^ By the way, the bellybutton philosophy…real discussion I had with my sister and mom O_O

Lamename: I'm so happy that my fic could make you laugh. So happy. I'm extremely pleased that you liked the chapter. Thank you ^_^

~~*N*~~: I'm glad that my Aya is a source of amusement to you. I guess that means I would be one as well. But damn if I just can't strut the momiage as well. Stupid hair, stupid gender. Oh well, guess I'll just have to live vicariously through Aya. I honestly have no clue as to what's guns happen. I'm writing this all by the seat of my pants, which probably will account for massive plot-holes that may arise. Hell, the Ken/Yohji pairing wasn't even a planned thing. They just snuck up on me and waylaid me, those jerks ~_^ Thanks for the review-age ^_^

CC: You and me. Wait a second though! Yohji is lusted after and doesn't know, so what makes you think that you're not being lusted after and just don't know!! Maybe' you're exactly like Yohji! Wow, you're so nifty by association now. You and Yohji are like buddies. So cool ~_^ Good to know I can insight `deep' thought on truly profound matters ^_^

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Waking after only 2 hours of sleep. Two hours of god-awful, terrible, scare the shit-outta-you sleep is not on the top of my `most preferred ways to start the day' list. Two hours of gut-wrenching, being-dominated-completely sleep. Oh yeah, that was a joy. Scariest part? Definitely the enjoyment factor. Kudoh Yohji does not do bondage. Sure, I'll try pretty much anything twice. But that? No. Check that, far too subtle, I'll try again. Ahem. NO!! No no no! …Much better.

Did the bondage thing, did the slave thing, did the `oh please don't, but really do' thing. Not my particular cup of tea. Not to say I don't love a dominating woman in the bedroom. It's just that certain things are too much for me. And, that wasn't a fucking woman!

Most definitely a man. Somehow I'm not exactly pleased by that. Silly me. Sure, if a guy's got a nice ass, I'll look. I don't, however, have the immediate reaction that I want to fuck or be fucked by said nice-assed theoretical guy. I'd have to say, if I'm going to categorize myself, that I'm about a fourth gay. So not totally gay, not totally straight, but still. Enough in there to allow me to appreciate a well developed ass or chest.

Last night was in a different ballpark altogether. That was `no I really don't want it, yet you're not stopping and my body's a fucking traitor' kind of thing. Thanks, but no. Blindfolds are fun, when I know what the person looks like before they put one on me. Ropes, cuffs, whips, these are, again, fun things. When used in the proper capacity. Rape? Nope, rape isn't really one of those fun things. Having my teammates and friends bursting into my room while I'm in the middle of a dream in which I'm being raped by an unknown assailant and it feels completely real and I can't wake up? Not part of the fun category either. Trying to kill said friends because I'm totally disoriented? Well, that might be funny, but not fun. I'm sure I'll look back on this in a few years and laaaugh. …yeah, right.

I feel terrible about having nearly killed the chibi. He's just a little bishounen.

Somehow thinking of this description amuses me enough to put a smile on my sleep-deprived face.

Stumbling out of my room, sluggish from not only the lack of sleep, but the relaxants as well, I make my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I hear a low-pitched, pathetic wail. After placing the sound as emanating from my own throat due to seeing my reflection in the mirror, I go about the business of showering.

Turn knobs, wait.

Test water, perfect.

Step in shower.

Stand under spray of water, wait.

Grab shampoo, lather, and rinse, repeat.

While going through the motions, I think about what I do remember of the dream. I remember it being hard to think. Like some kinda evil gas o'doom (TM) was floating around my brain making it hard to think. Better lay off the brandy for a while then. Yeah, maybe it's all because of the drinking. My body gave up on the conventional ways of trying to get me to stop, like liver failure, and went onto the non-conventional "enjoyable" rape dreams. Sure as shit worked!

Maybe I should market this as a `kick-the-habit' strategy. Useful for most bad-habits. Nail-biting? Have a bondage, rape dream. Boyfriend cheats? Make him nearly choke while sucking on some ineffable guy's cock in a dream. Girlfriend does drugs? Hey, you could have her gang-banged! It'd sell. With the right marketing.

Now I know I'm screwed up, I've even started to try and come up with a slogan for my little rape-dream scheme. …hey, that rhymes.

Getting out of the steamy, hot, wonderful, `almost as good as confessional' shower, proves difficult. Apparently, the muscle relaxants decide that they are time release and this is the time at which they will release. Oh joy, oh rapture.

I fall to the floor as my limbs cease to function.

All I can think as I go down like a conscious, sentient sack of potatoes is that I wish I'd been able to reach my towel.

+++++

Both Aya and my head snap up as we hear a `thunk' from upstairs. Omi's gone to school, Aya and I are down here, which pretty much leaves only one person. Yohji. Why the hell does it always have to be Yohji? Why not the guy in the Mercedes who cut me off yesterday when I was on a delivery? Then I wouldn't have to worry about trying to hide a huge damn boner while I help him. Then again, I wouldn't be helping that guy if he fell over. Well, maybe I would. Regardless, Yohji is still upstairs and we're still downstairs, and there was still an ominous `thunk' sound that does not normally accompany the waking process. Least, not Yohji's. Cursing, maybe, but not `thunking.'

Looking over at Aya I realize I've been staring at the ceiling. I could lie and say that I was waiting to see if there were going to be any more noises, but I truly suck at lying. Can't really tell him that I was thinking how I would keep from getting an erection if I were to go upstairs. I guess I could, but would I want to risk losing my balls? Or whatever level of respect Aya might hold for me? Not in particular.

It takes me another second to realize Aya is staring at me with a rather disturbing intensity. His eyes are slits of suspicion and something else. Why the hell would he be suspicious? It's not like I made the `thunking' sound for shits and giggles or anything. Not like I had a fantasy of forcing Yohji to deep-throat me completely against his will. No, not me, never.

We stare at each other for a while more. His, suspicious and searching. Mine, vacant. Lights are on, but nobody's home. Or they're hiding under the kitchen table trying to not let anyone know how fucked up they are. Either way, it looks the same. After a minute or two more of the staring, we both look back at the ceiling and make the decision: we'll both go. Obviously, Aya has immense trust in me right now…then again, so do I. How messed up is that?

We drop what we're doing. Metaphorically, of course. Otherwise, there'd be a huge puddle of water on the floor from my watering can and pruning shears imbedded in the worktable top.

Trekking upstairs, Aya mumbles something that I translate as: "turn the sign." Once I've figured out that he means the open/closed sign, I follow the orders, shut the door, and follow him up.

When we reach the top, we look around cautiously to make sure no one's going to jump out at us, then proceed to Yohji's room. Okay, not there, try again. Bathroom, yes, okay, bathroom door is closed, steam and condensation on the door, shower. So Yohji's in the bathroom after having just gotten out of a rather hot shower.

The images of my fant…nightmare flash quickly through my head. His lips, the water, his wet body. They hit me so fast and unaware that I nearly gasp from their intensity. I fight to control the heat pooling in my groin as well as stop the pictures and sensations from taking over all coherent thought. Why the HELL does it always have to be Yohji?!

Aya looks at me from the corner of his eye. Looks like I didn't cover up the quasi-gasp well enough. His gaze shifts back to the door. This is when I realize, he'll more likely stare the door down, rather than try actually yelling to ask if anyone's hurt. At least this makes it easier for me to find and follow through on a task.

"Yohji! Are you okay?" I yell through the door, trying the handle as I yell. It's locked. Part of me rejoices.

"N jus fl." Not exactly the response I was looking for, but it's better than nothing.

"What?"

There's a moment in which it sounds like he's clearing his throat and going for another attempt at speech.

"Sry, jus fell."

"You don't sound too well, did you hit your head?"

"Nuh-uh. Relxns."

"What?"

A frustrated sigh filters through the wood. Barely, I feel like I hear a snicker and look to Aya. Wait, no, this is Aya, what the hell am I thinking. I turn back to the door.

"Ken." Goody, he can say my name without a slur, maybe he can form coherent sentences now. "Fell cause the re-lax-ants."

Now I understand! Just so happens that I went through something quite similar. Hot water, low blood pressure, yup. The combination of these things often makes a person fall flat on their face. Now couple that with emotional or mental stress, and you're not only going down, but rather quickly. Damn, why the hell does Omi insist on using whatever type of drug he uses as opposed to one that doesn't have the nasty side-effect of lowering a person's blood pressure? Maybe it's Kritiker. Maybe they don't feel like springing for something somewhat safe. Bastards. Yet another slap in the face as to how disposable we are to them. I guess it's a nice thing that Yohji fell now, safe, at home, instead of in front of some gun-toting goon.

++++

After we heard the oh so ominous `thunk' from upstairs, Hidaka and I made our way up to where it supposedly came from. So now we're standing in front of the bathroom door having a conversation with what sounds like a dying giraffe. Wonderful. Moreover, to make things even better, I think Hidaka is trying to work on his mind-reading abilities as it took him several minutes to actually call through the door to ask if Kudoh was okay. Apparently, I've not made my standing in the group absolutely clear: speak only when absolutely necessary. Such as in the case of addressing dark beasts and telling them that, `oh, sorry, your tomorrow is being denied.'

Ah yes, how fun that is to listen to every damn night. I think Persia needs to reevaluate where he spends his money and actually create a budget for his speechwriters. What the hell is a dark beast anyway? Sounds like some sort of hentai title of sorts. Oh, wait a minute, that's because it is. How silly of me. Right along with Angel of Darkness, Spy of Darkness, Darkness of Stupid Darkness. Hmm, not so much that last one, but if there was a hentai with that name, I might be tempted to watch it out of principle.

Hidaka's truly gotten far in the `converse with dying giraffe' scenario. Now the giraffe has moved from trying to enunciate into just sighing heavily. Which, of course, amuses me.

Damn, guess I allowed myself to be amused bit too loudly as Hidaka glances over at me. I always have to keep reminding myself that I'm too sullen and moody to have these kinds of reactions. Oh well.

Back to the giraffe. Well, the door is still closed, the conversation seems to not be working out so well, so maybe I should do something that is more than glaring at the door hoping that a hole will appear. Maybe Kudoh will magically get off his face, stand up, and, gasp, walk out of the bathroom. Wouldn't that be a feat.

"Are you alright?" I ask of the giraffe through the door.

"Nh."

I take that to mean that he is fine, incredibly embarrassed, wanting us to leave so that he can lay on the bathroom floor licking his wounds in peace, and maybe eventually get off the bathroom floor and into his room.

My reply: "Hn."

Hidaka looks from the door to me, then back at the door.

"Well, you two seem to know how to communicate to each other, don't you?"

Both the door and I let out a low growl. Kudoh and I have truly bonded.

"Ah, just like an old married couple."

I don't deign to reply, but the door snarls.

"Okay Yohji, if you aren't dying, then ummm, we'll be, uhh, well, we'll be nearby if you need help. But, since the door's locked, it would be hard to help unless we broke it down or picked the lock. But if we break it down then we have to buy a new door and then…"

It becomes clear to me that Hidaka is going to continue to babble unless some steps are taken. Thus, I grab his arm and drag him away from the door saying over my shoulder to the giraffe "Don't take too long or we'll pick the lock."